The Adrenaline Junkie

At any given time, there’s usually either a pharmacy student or pharmacy resident hanging out in our ER.  This particular month we had Kipp, a pharmacy resident who was eager to see his first trauma.

At the end of the first week, he finally got his chance (it was a slow month). We stood in the trauma bay, waiting for a fairly routine-sounding MVA to be rolled in — positive LOC on-scene but now conscious with a GCS of 15, along with an open tib/fib fracture.  Pharmacy-wise, this patient wouldn’t require much: antibiotics, tetanus vaccine, and maybe some pain meds.  No intubation meds, mannitol, or anything fun like that.

Kipp: A few months ago, I went and saw the movie 127 Hours at the theater. It was awesome. When they got to the part where James Franco had to cut off his arm, I watched the whole thing. Other people were closing their eyes and looking away, but I’m like, “This it’s nothing!” My favorite part is when he plucked the nerve in his arm like a guitar string…

And then EMS brought in the patient. Unfortunately, the leg fracture was just a regular old closed fracture, so I couldn’t make this resident do the aminoglycoside dosing. There wasn’t even so much as a laceration to deal with.

Cranky Surgical Attending: Pharmacy, can we get 50mcg of fentanyl?

Kipp: I got it…

As Kipp went to the back of the trauma bay to pull fentanyl out of the Pyxis machine, I chatted with one of the respiratory therapists. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, as metal carts and trays were upturned behind us. I turn around, and there’s Kipp, slumped on the floor next to the fluid warmer.

Apparently the lack of blood and guts was just too much for his nerves of steel to handle.

Med Rec Betty

Over the last few years, the Joint Commission has put a fair amount of emphasis on medication reconciliation before a patient is admitted to the hospital. Different institutions handle this in different ways. Many hospitals make nurses take patients’ med histories. Others put this chore in the laps of pharmacists — particularly ER pharmacists (if the hospital is fortunate enough to have them). Luckily, I’ve been able to avoid all of that tedium, since we have a fleet of pharmacy techs in charge of med rec. Not so luckily, I get to share my office (formerly a storage closet) with the whole lot of them.

As I’m trying to work, one particular tech, Med Rec Betty, always feels the need to narrate to me what happened with every single med history she has attempted. Sometimes I politely act like I’m paying attention. Just as often, I lose patience and put on a pair of headphones. Today, I listened.

Med Rec Betty: I just spent a half-hour in the room of the patient that the helicopter just dropped off. His whole family was in the room. It was really awkward — everybody crying while I try and figure out which pharmacy he uses.

PharmNerd: Mmm-hmm.

Med Rec Betty: Now that I think about it, they seemed kind of rude. Excuse me, but it’s my job to get med histories on every patient that gets admitted.

PharmNerd: Wait… are you talking about the guy in Room 2?

Med Rec Betty: Yeah, him! Hey, what’s that tube sticking out of his mouth? It kind of looked like a breathing tube, but it wasn’t hooked up to anything.

PharmNerd: Yeah… that was a breathing tube. Call it a hunch, but I’m pretty sure he’s not being admitted.

Marsupial-esque

Frequent-flyer patient, Ima Faker, was just brought into the ER by ambulance for chest pain.  Medcom called her in as Priority One (really sick), because she suddenly went unresponsive en route.  As they rolled her in the door, Dr. Sherlock wasn’t buying it.

Dr. Sherlock:  Hey, lady.  Open your eyes.

Ima:  …

Dr. Sherlock:  If you don’t wake up, we’re going to have to paralyze you and stick a breathing tube down your throat. <sternal rub, sternal rub>

Ima:  …

Dr. Sherlock:  Come on!  Quit playing possum on me!

Ima:  F**k you! I’m not playing possum! Give me some Dilaudid for this damn chest pain!